


The Disorder Ensemble

by sastrasantai



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, HALLELUJAH IT'S NOT ANGSTY THIS TIME, Humor, I guess Yuuki will appear later, Light I guess?, Musicians, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 16:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9911192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sastrasantai/pseuds/sastrasantai
Summary: Tales of the the Disorder Ensemble, or D-Ensemble, which is always in perfect harmony on stage but hopelessly dysfunctional off stage.





	1. Friendly Frequencies

**Author's Note:**

> A Modern Musician AU.

Nobody gets more excited than Odagiri about climbing four flights of stairs on a Saturday morning. Even if he has to carry a case big enough for a dead body and weighs about the same. Even if his lungs burn and his neck is on the line for unstable turn he makes on the steps. Even if it costs him every Thursday and Saturday and possibly every holiday he has for the rest of life. There is something thrillingly familiar at the top of the stairs, something which Odagiri can just hear through the cracked doors, and it gets his heart pumping more than the exercise already has.

There is one thing—and only one thing—which can bring this much color into his life, the one thing that had anchored him through the drifting, hazy years of his growing up, and the one thing he can never give up.

It is music.

Straightening his back, Odagiri somehow manages to regain a more regular tempo of breathing before the door. He picks up his bass case from the floor, taking one deep breath before swinging open the door—

And narrowly missing getting beheaded by a flying cymbal.

“Disorder is the order of the floor!”

The cymbal hits the wall behind Odagiri, tumbling down the steps in an earsplitting crash.

“Hell yeah, baby!”

Kaminaga’s loud shout echoes Hatano’s wild words. The latter, despite the fact that he is standing tall, seems to be drowning behind an assortment of drums, xylophones, marimba, and various other percussions, as well as a cymbal set missing one. At the other side, the former is waving a guitar above his head like a pom-pom—and given the guitar is covered in a rainbow of eye-catching stickers, it might as well be a pom-pom.

“Your ridiculous rock band practice is over half an hour ago. Settle down, will you?” Miyoshi suggests with an air of condescension. He is sitting in perfect posture on the front, farthest to the left, rubbing rosin against his bow as his violin rests on the empty chairs beside him.

“Not until Yuuki gets here!” Giggles Kaminaga.

“Yep, no chance!” Hatano confirms as he props the door open and goes to retrieve the poor cymbal, flashing a grin at the poor newcomer. “’Sup, Odagiri.”

“Uh. Hi.” Odagiri mumbles back.

Odagiri is never sure what the correct response to “What’s up” is, just as he’s never sure if Kaminaga and/or Hatano are running high on cannabis, caffeine, or crazy adrenaline alone. He goes to the front chair, farthest to the right, and unpacks his double bass.

“A cymbal.”

Odagiri pauses, noting the voice.

“There. Is. A. Cymbal. On the floor.” A stricken voice surfaces from the stairs. “What is precious ensemble property doing on the floor?”

“Just two idiots playing around as usual, Sakuma-san.” Miyoshi coyly responds.

“Have you any idea how expensive this—all of these—are!?”

“Chill man, I always hit this thing harder than I throw it.” Hatano smirks, picking up the cymbal.

“For God’s sake, when will you learn to take good care of our instruments!? They are NOT your toys! And they cost a lot more than what we make in a single event!”

“Awww, what’s wrong with having a little fun? Isn’t that the whole point of music?”

“You think treating musical instruments like this is _fun_!?”

Odagiri can’t see Sakuma somewhere down on the steps but he notices Sakuma’s own cello lying sideways beside him. That means Sakuma’s hands are free. Not to mention Sakuma’s appreciation of musical instruments has been nearing a dangerous level of worship, a contrast to Hatano’s more casual treatment (or rather, disregard). But whether Sakuma is fast enough to sock Hatano on the diaphragm is a crucial question.

“Oooh, a bodybuilder and a black belt fighting!?” Kaminaga says, perking up. “I’m here for that!”

“Idiots.” Mutters Miyoshi.

“Place your bets while you can, Miyoshi! Odagiri!”

Fortunately, before Odagiri can either bet or break up the argument—neither of which would end well for him—another person comes along and up the stairs.

“Good morning,” Jitsui smiles at Hatano and Sakuma, clearly in a cheerful mood, swinging his hard violin case with a sure grip like he would with a blunt weapon. “Please step aside, gentlemen, or I’ll turn you to bugs on a windshield.”

Hatano grins, Sakuma grumbles, and the two follow Jitsui back into the ensemble room. Soon enough the conversation rerouted itself among Hatano, Kaminaga, and Jitsui.

Odagiri sighs. He thought he’d come early like always and enjoy a peaceful practice by himself before the actual group practice, maybe even consult the usual early comers like Miyoshi and Sakuma about improving his play, but fate has it that the trouble trio arrives early today—the trouble trio of Kaminaga, Hatano, and any third person caught in their mischief.

Hence, it is a good thing that the next person to arrive in the ensemble room is a quiet one. Fukumoto walks in, cool as a cucumber, until he trips over his own foot and nearly crashes into Odagiri.

Unfortunately, Fukumoto does knock over a half-dozen music stands in the process.

“Sorry.” He apologizes without an ounce of panic, despite the others’ erupting laughter.

“Well, somebody’s _tripping_!” Someone shouts.

“He’s fainting cause he didn’t have enough breakfast! Somebody feed him!”

“It’s all right. Are you okay?” Odagiri asks, getting up to help Fukumoto fix the music stands.

“Yeah.” Fukumoto responds coolly with the slightest smile. He manages to align the music stands once again before he takes his place at the back of the string section and proceeds to set up his trombone. Odagiri has gone back into his seat.

“Good morning, fellas.” Gamou saunters in with a bright smile and a phone in hand. He looks around, checks his phone, then eases into small talk as he pulls out his viola. Though he looks relaxed, it takes him a while to actually start playing as he continues to check his phone repeatedly, slipping it in and out of his pocket. In time, however, he starts tuning his instrument under Jitsui’s strict supervision.

The next person signals his entrance by a lilting whistling. Tazaki gets to keep his breath and whistle all the way up the stairs because he carries the lightest instrument of all—the flute. Odagiri feels a little envious.

Tazaki pauses his whistling briefly and smiles. “Good morning, everyone.”

Likewise, Odagiri can’t help but be envious of Tazaki’s vast knowledge of music history and theory, things which Odagiri has only recently grasped. At the same time, Odagiri is aware that Tazaki’s knowledge has been accumulated over many years of class and reading and experience, something that he cannot gain that quickly.

 

_“You can’t do things at someone else’s pace—you have to do it at your own time. Find your rhythm, your own place. That’s the best way to learn.”_

_Find your rhythm._

 

Odagiri smiles. The words of his mentor rings true in his mind. He’s certainly not a natural like Kaminaga, experienced like Miyoshi, or quick at learning like Fukumoto, but agonizing over his own current deficiencies would not get him very far. He can’t let insecurities stop with his playing music or getting along with people, no—not anymore.

“What are you whistling, Tazaki? It sounds very familiar.” Odagiri asks as Tazaki settles next to Fukumoto to open his flute case.

“It’s ‘[Morning Mood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kzTQ9fjforY)’ by Edvard Grieg,” Tazaki replies, smiling at him. “It’s famous by itself but there are actually two whole suites from which it’s taken. They are written for a play called _Peer Gynt_ written by another Norwegian named Henrik Ibsen back in the late 1800s. Now Grieg himself was actually—“

“Sorry for being rude, Tazaki, but you need to get ready now.” Sakuma interjects, knowing that they have only five minutes till the supposed arrival of their conductor.

“Heh, you just don’t wanna hear another one of Tazaki lectures, don’t you!” Kaminaga laughs.

“That’s what you get from a music teacher.”

“You mean _nerd_!”

“You’re right, Sakuma,” Tazaki nods calmly. “I apologize.”

“No, I should be the one apologizing!” Odagiri argues. “I’m the one who stopped you and bothered you with a question!”

Tazaki smiles kindly. “Oh, not at all. I’m too happy to oblige. Or rather—I can’t resist to oblige.”

“Ah, I see.” Odagiri says with a clumsy chuckle. “Um. Thanks.”

“You’re most welcome.”

In his awkwardness, Odagiri’s hand starts fidgeting, randomly plucking at his bass strings. A musical instrument is good to way to occupy nervous hands—and nervous minds.

Suddenly, the door opens with an unceremonious bang.

“Morning! I’m sorry I’m late! Or am I?”

Amari rushes in, hair in a messy ponytail and shirt in a half-ironed state, catching his breath. He is holding a trumpet case in one hand and a perfectly dressed Emma on the other.

“Finally, the band leader is here!”

“Yes, hello! Sorry I’m late, guys! I just got up and had to feed and dress Emma and stuff—“

“Papa forgot where he put his car keys again,” Emma said matter-of-factly as she wiggles in Amari’s arms.

“Hey, Emma, you’re not supposed to tell them that!”

“But Papa, you say we have to be honest!” Emma pouts. “This morning I already have my pink shirt on and I turned off the TV and then I put cookies in my bag, so I said we have to go now Papa now, but you didn’t come out. And you didn’t come out because you forgot your car keys.”

Amari sighs and smiles.

“…Emma darling, you just made a very good point, and I regret being a good father.”

The room breaks into another fit laughter. Emma, who doesn’t quite understand the humor, giggles along as Amari pats her hair lovingly.

“Emma is too smart for you, Amari!”

“Take it easy, man!

“We’re still waiting for Yuuki to arrive.”

“Thanks, guys.” Amari laughs. “I walk in and you’re already playing nice like this. I should come late more often!”

Emma jumps down from Amari’s arms and makes herself at home on the corner with coloring book and crayons. Amari has taught her to not bother the musicians and Emma is fully capable of being sweet and quiet when the ensemble plays. Besides, Emma knows perfectly well that when practice is over she could turn everybody into her playmate.

Meanwhile, Amari doesn’t bother with his instrument. He sets up his trumpet and sheet music and put them down. Instead, he makes rounds and asks everybody how they are doing, responding appropriately to each person’s answer. Whatever tension was in the room before he came, it has all but dissipated in his gentle presence. Amari even knows how to persuade the reluctant Odagiri to open up. This ability to connect with and warm up with so many people—Odagiri is pleasantly surprised.

The ensemble members--they are people separated by age, profession, and background. They are different but equally strong personalities and individualities—which often leads to clashes, fist-less fights, and bad humor. But whenever they play music together, which they do often, they easily fall into the same friendly frequencies. The outside world, their worries, their woes—nothing matters but the time that they spend together creating music. Odagiri knows no better experience of living and being in the present than in that moment. It is a time he cherishes most.

Soon, the practice room at the fifth floor becomes filled with the dissonant sounds of voices and overlapping instruments. Despite the lack of heating in the large space, the chatter feels warm. Conversations are all over the place. Some of the men wear fashionable outfits, some prefer loose sweatshirts. Some play music as professionals, others only as a hobby. Some are relatively new to music, others claim to be veterans. Some are quieter, focused on playing and listening, and some are gregarious, eager to share their energy. Some are busy with tuning or polishing their instruments, some are busy socializing, teasing, or laughing at each other. Every practice is different and every practice is unpredictably fun.

There is absolutely no order on this floor—and that, Odagiri observes, is the perfect order of things.

 


	2. Take Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Break time. A conspiracy brews. Someone makes a sacrifice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take Five:   
> 1\. To take a break of five minutes  
> 2\. Fifth take, the fifth repetition of something  
> 3\. A reference to this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmDDOFXSgAs)

“How’s the time, Sakuma?” Amari asks.

Amari is standing front and center, facing a crescent moon formation of nine musicians, their ears sharp and their hands poised over their instruments.

Amari is feeling a little breathless. Leading a band means he has to read the music ahead and give the right directions at the right time. Not only does he have to pay attention to everybody’s play, he needs to remember all their little quirks: Miyoshi gets upset if Amari comments too much, Odagiri appreciates a bit of encouragement sometimes, and Hatano speeds up like crazy if not reined in. This is on top of the fact that Amari has his own trumpet solo to worry about.

Thus, Amari is relieved to know that his cellist is trustworthy at keeping time. Sakuma doesn’t even need to glance at his watch. He keeps his phone right on his music stand, next to the music sheets, visible at all times.

“We have fifteen minutes until break time.” Sakuma replies.

“Snack time!” Hatano shouts.

“Shhh!”

“You’re such a kid!”

“Hmmm….” Amari runs his hand over his hair, humming thoughtfully.

The boys sigh. Kaminaga yawns audibly. Gamou glances at his phone. Tazaki blows an absentminded note off his flute.

“Well, why don’t we take five?” Amari finally suggests with a smile. “Actually, let’s make that thirty—I think we need it. Let’s take a thirty-minute break now, guys!”

Loud cheers almost split the room apart. Instruments (gently) tossed aside, three people zoom out the door, yelping and shoving each other as they race downstairs like three mad dogs.

Puzzled at the sound of Amari, Hatano, and Kaminaga’s thunderous race down the stairs, Odagiri rests his double bass and decides to ask Fukumoto.

“Why are they running?”

“Coffee.”

“They’re that desperate for coffee?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Well, yes and no.” Jitsui chimes in. “They _were_ desperate for coffee. Now they’re running because they drank too much and will piss in their pants if they don’t hurry.”

“Won’t running just make it worse? Fools.” Miyoshi scoffs.

Odagiri recalls the nearest toilet is on the second floor. Only accessible via stairs. A darn set of very steep stairs. He makes a mental note to drink coffee sparingly at rehearsals.

Behind Odagiri, Fukumoto puts away his trombone and rummages through his backpack. Gamou has quietly slipped away, as has Sakuma. Emma takes off from her little perch in the corner, abandoning her crayons and coloring books, itching for some attention. Seeing her Papa has serious business to attend to, she reaches for Tazaki instead, who is busy drying the moisture off his flute. Miyoshi and Jitsui settle into their chairs across from Odagiri, leaving their violins and stretching their tired arms.

“The new song is tough, isn’t it?” Jitsui says. “I’m glad we got an early break just because nature called Amari!”

“Really? _I_ could’ve played for much longer.” Miyoshi claims.

“I’m sure you can but _I_ would still make Amari give us an early break!”

Odagiri silently agrees with Jitsui. The new song has him reeling in confusion at too many parts. The only one who doesn’t seem troubled is Miyoshi, who seems to have mastered the whole piece judging by the smoothness of his performance, even though the ensemble has only practiced the song four times.

Miyoshi, however, is currently hissing in irritation as he massages his temples. “Tch—I feel awful. I could really use some coffee.” He groans.

Odagiri recalls a small but cozy looking coffee shop about five blocks away from the building. On rehearsal days, whenever he passes by the shop, he’d always perk up at the mouthwatering whiff of golden pastries and fresh coffee from their doors.

“Isn’t Black Bird Coffee Shop only five to ten minutes away?” He suggests.

“Sounds about right.” Jitsui nods.

“Ugh, I hate going out in the cold and going up these goddamn stairs again. Why is getting coffee such a pain!”

“It’s good coffee, Miyoshi!”

“Yeah. Their coffee’s good.” Fukumoto agrees. “But coffee’s diuretic.”

“What does ‘diuretic’ mean?” Odagiri asks.

“Means you leak much faster.”

“Wow, I hate where this conversation is going.” Miyoshi sneers, shaking his head.

“Diuretic drinks lead to dehydration and that’s bad. We should always drink enough water.” Fukumoto nods, a half-full water bottle on his left hand and a large pack of food on his right. “Want some snacks?”

“Ooh—what’s that, Fukumoto?”

“Rice crackers with seaweed. Delicious.”

“Can Emma have some please?” Says a tiny voice.

Emma is smiling brighter than the spring sun, half-jumping and half-dancing as she pulls Tazaki towards the rest of the group. Tazaki pulls up a chair next to Odagiri and releases Emma towards Fukumoto’s snacks, whose owner smiles back at her.

“Of course, Emma. Here.”

“Fukumoto, you always bring lots of snacks to practice. Where do you get them for so cheap?” Asks Tazaki.

“He’s dating a grocery store manager so he gets extra ‘benefits.’” Miyoshi replies.

“What?”

“No, he’s _blackmailing_ a grocery store manager so he gets ‘extra’ benefits.” Jitsui insists.

“What!?” Odagiri gasps.

“I buy them by the dozen at the wholesale store. The one just off the highway exit. Parade Goods.”

“I know that store, they sell a nice variation of board games and partyware. That’s where I get my playing cards—thirty card packs in one box.”

“Tazaki, why do you even need that many card packs?”

“Hey, do they sell beer packs? Wine?”

“Wait—so, uh, Fukumoto’s dating—“

“Can I have more crackers, please?” Emma asks, hands reaching out.

“I give most of them away at parties or shows, plus it’s nice having spare packs.”

“Here, have some more.”

“Hey, don’t you think that Gamou is dating someone?” Jitsui muses. “I mean, I always see him texting on his phone.”

“Like most millennials do?” Tazaki points out, passing the snacks to Miyoshi.

“I say the evidence points to positive.” Miyoshi responds, handing the crackers straight back to Fukumoto. While the others munch and crunch, Miyoshi is clearly more eager for fresh gossip than dry crackers.

“How so, Miyoshi?”

“Well,” Miyoshi says with a wicked smile. “Let’s see: he has a car, he dresses nicely, he always calls somebody at break, and he runs off right after practice. _And_ he never goes out drinking with us. Add to that to the fact that he’s a looker and a smooth talker. I daresay he has a girlfriend.”

“So he’s always calling and texting this girlfriend?”

“A clingy girlfriend!” Jitsui suggests.

“Gross.” Miyoshi snorts.

“But why can’t he just say he’s got a girlfriend?”

“Because it’s obviously a secret, Odagiri.” Jitsui smiles.

Miyoshi nods. “Of course. We’re not supposed to talk about her, you fool.”

“Well, I’m sure he has his reasons.” Tazaki shrugs. “Still, Miyoshi, I’m surprised you care enough to say Gamou looks and talks nice. You’re surprisingly observant.”

“Well, well, Miyoshi.”

“Hmph! I’m just saying he’s not like some idiots around here who don’t even use a _deodorant_.”

“I wear deodorant.”

“I don’t mean you, Fukumoto!”

With the seaweed crackers finished, Fukumoto pulls out another impossibly large package from his backpack, holding it up like some sort of trophy. “I have another bag of crackers. With sesame seeds.”

“Ooh! Emma likes sesame seeds!”

“That’s good for you—I prefer plain ones myself.” Jitsui sighs.

“I’m tired of crackers.” Miyoshi whines.

“Then more crackers for us! Thanks, Fukumoto.” Tazaki says as he swipes some crackers.

“Emma likes sesame seeds! And sunflower seeds!”

“Really? Sunflower seeds are delicious!”

Emma nods enthusiastically as she holds a cracker with both hands, jumping up and down, raining crumbs and seeds all over everybody’s shoes.

“But Papa says, um, Papa says apple seeds are bad! So Emma doesn’t like sesame seeds!”

“Emma, don’t you mean apple seeds?”

Emma swallows and swings her head in disagreement. “No, sesame seeds!”

Tazaki laughs. “Wait, you got a little mixed up there…”

“Huh?”

“Oh, Emma!” Jitsui says, joining the laughter as Odagiri and Fukumoto smile quietly in the background.

They pass around the bag of crackers again when suddenly Miyoshi stands up with a look of disgust, sending his scarf flying and almost hitting poor Odagiri in the eye.

“Ack! Miyoshi—“

“Hmph! I need coffee and milk and sugar—not something ancient like seeds and rice crackers!”

Miyoshi storms away while Odagiri counts his blessings and the group gobbles on without missing a beat, chipping away at their fifth or sixth or sixteenth cracker of the day, as Jitsui keeps the conversation going.

“Emma, how about pumpkin seeds? Do you like them?”

“Wait, you can eat those?” Odagiri wonders.

Fukumoto nods. “I’ll bring some next time.”

“Get some from your grocery store girlfriend.” Jitsui suggests.

“Are you kidding me?”

“I’m always serious.”

“Wait—“

“I likes pumpkins too!” Emma claims as she puts her small hands on Fukumoto’s much bigger knees. “Uncle Fukumoto, are you going to bring pumpkins next time?”

“Pumpkin seeds, Emma, pumpkin seeds.”

“So, this grocery store…”

“Hey, give me some of those crackers.”

“Jitsui, I thought you said you don’t like sesame seeds?” Tazaki asks, eyebrows raised.

Odagiri passes the bag. “Here you go.”

“Pumpkins are good too. Pumpkin pies, soup, bread…”

“Hey, what are pumpkin seeds like?”

“Well…”

 

 

* * *

 

 At one end of the room, the party around Fukumoto chirps and chomps away like busy birds sitting around a bowl of seeds. Miyoshi has retreated to a corner to sulk, face hidden under his scarf and arms folded across his chest, watching the not-quite-winter, not-quite-spring scenery outside. The skies are a peppery grey mess behind the cherry blossom trees, which are bare and brown, still too shy to bloom. Miyoshi secretly wishes it was spring, the season of warmth and colorful blossoms and birds, and starts humming melodies out of Vivaldi’s Spring to himself.

Moments later, what breaks Miyoshi’s reverie is the sound of the door opening quietly. Enters Sakuma, who has been taking a phone call on the rooftop all this time, his hair looking wilder than usual thanks to the wintry winds outside.

Sakuma is feeling more than a little worn out. A conversation with the ensemble director is invariably serious business—and Yuuki is not always elaborate enough in his explanations. The man is terse to a fault at times. To Yuuki’s credit, however, Sakuma thinks he’s still a far more reasonable and fairer person than Sakuma’s boss at his day job, and Yuuki is nothing if not a master planner and a visionary artist. Sakuma has been blown away by Yuuki’s intelligence and virtuoso in countless occasions. Just where and how did the man learn his ways?

Never mind the man of mysteries, Sakuma has work to do. He forgoes the snacking and socializing happening at the other end of the room. Instead, Sakuma pulls out his laptop and opens three different worksheets.

Under the attendance list, where everybody’s name is listed in order, he puts a little check next to their names under the day’s date. Everybody came to practice today. That’s good.

Under the inventory list, he notes that the usual musical instruments are present and in good condition. While most ensemble members have their own, the larger instruments are borrowed from the campus: piano, drum sets, percussion sets, amplifiers and such. It is important for Sakuma to make sure they are in good condition unless he wants the ensemble kicked out of their only practice place. Sakuma also makes notes of the other objects in the room: that there are the right number of chairs, the lights and heater are working properly, and the room is clean as usual upon their entry. Good. There should be no complaints from the campus. Sakuma shudders when he remembers what happened at their last practice place courtesy of the trio of troublemakers. The memory alone sends awful pangs to his stomach.

Alright—moving on. Under the practice log, he gives a brief description of the day’s events: the songs they practiced, the good things that happened, the things that need improvement. Amari will usually have inputs about that, which Sakuma will have to ask and add to the log later. Sakuma has to mind the writing as well—Yuuki will want him to be as thorough as possible.

Stretching, Sakuma pauses to take a deep breath. He rubs his warm, weary eyes and wonders if Emma will start calling him a panda for his dark circles one of these days. There’s his day job, there’s lack of sleep, and then there’s _this_. Sakuma calls it “keeping rehearsals in order.” The ensemble calls it “unnecessary” and “impossible.” They even nicknamed him The Rehearsal Captain for that.

Sakuma sighs. He’ll have to proofread his worksheets and email them later when he’s more alert. After putting away his laptop, he slips outside silently only to bump into two bickering crows on the stairway: Kaminaga and Hatano making their lazy trip back up.

“Whoa whoa whoa? Where are you going, Sakuma?!” Kaminaga shouts.

“I’ll be back in five—before break time is over, I swear!” Sakuma yells back, already running down the stairs.

“Geez, like we didn’t know that already!” Hatano mocks.

“Yeah. Why so damn serious all the time?”

“Beats me.”

“Dude can seriously use some chill.” Kaminaga shakes his head.

The duo shrug and make their way back to the practice room, slamming the door open and walking in with style.

“Oh man! I’ve been relieved! Wooh!” Kaminaga announces. “I’m like eight ounces lighter!”

“That’s too much information dude,” Hatano grins. “Wait, did I miss snack time? You got crackers, Fukumoto!?”

Kaminaga and Hatano make an immediate beeline for the snacks. Meanwhile, Miyoshi is maintaining his solitary spot in the corner, keeping a watch by the window. A smile curls up Miyoshi’s lips when he sees Sakuma running out the building as he knew Sakuma would. He watches Sakuma run past the brick buildings and the plum trees, avoiding the slippery spots on the road, and disappear in the distance.

Miyoshi waits, ignoring ignores the chit chatter and incessant snacking going on with the rest of the ensemble. Instead, he counts his minutes carefully. He’s a musician—he’s good at keeping time—besides, the math is far too easy. Finally, he pulls up his phone and dials.

“Hello, this is—“

“Sakuma, you’re at Blackbird Coffee, aren’t you? Get me something.”

“Huh? Why can’t you just come here?” Sakuma replies. “We’ve got twenty minutes—”

“Cause you’re already at the coffee place.”

“Well yes, but—“

“It wouldn’t hurt you to get one thing for me.”

 “Well no, but—“

Miyoshi drops his voice, sounding unusually friendly.

“It wouldn’t make sense for you to turn down the offer, Sakuma-san.” He says. “You’re already at the coffee place, after all. Can’t you just do me a small favor?”

There is a pause.

“I—I can?”

Hearing this, Miyoshi smiles and hurls his order at Sakuma.

“Good. I want a Caramel Macchiato medium, super hot, 50% less sugar, 2% milk, with whipped cream—it has to be 2% milk—oh, and bring some packets of brown sugar too.”

“Whoa—hold on! Miyoshi—“

“See you later, Sakuma!”

Miyoshi leans back on the wall and smiles, reveling in that sweet, sweet feeling of satisfaction—until he notices Kaminaga’s sunshine grin mere inches away from his face.

“What do you want, Kaminaga?” Miyoshi growls.

“I want what you want.”

“Ewww. Get away from me.”

“Not like that! Dude! Maaan!” Kaminaga shouts, scratching his head. “So, Sakuma’s already at the coffee place?”

“Yes, so?”

“Good. That’s all I need to know.” Kaminaga winks.

The goofy man casually walks back into the group, who turn away from their nearly finished bag of crackers and watch Kaminaga as he makes a call on his phone.

“Hey, Sakuma-san!” Kaminaga sings.

He gets an irritated grumble in response.

“So, I heard you’re getting coffee for Miyoshi.” Kaminaga continues, grinning. “I think it’s kinda unfair, don’t you?”

“Unfair? He’s being unreasonable—”

“I mean it’s unfair because the rest of us would love some coffee _too_.”

The phone line turns silent before there is finally a long, suffering sigh.

“Fine. Text me your order.”

“Awesome! Thanks, dude!” Kaminaga shouts and throws his hands into the air. “Hey guys, Sakuma’s getting us coffee!”

The group immediately cheers in approval as Miyoshi steps up next to Kaminaga and matches his smile with a smirk.

“And Sakuma told me he’s paying for everything so order anything you like!” He announces.

Another cheer goes around the room. Someone searches for Blackbird Coffee menu on the internet, others readily pull up their phone to text their order. But somewhere amid the coffee-induced euphoria a person suddenly feels uneasy.

“Did Sakuma say he’s paying?” Odagiri quietly asks.

Fukumoto places a hand on Odagiri’s shoulder and shakes his head. “Leave it.”

“Huh? Oh, okay…”

Meanwhile, caught in the excitement, Emma jumps around and tries to get somebody’s attention. “Can! Can—um—can Emma have coffee too?”

“Emma, coffee is not for kids!” Somebody laughs.

“But I wanna try!”

Seeing her stubbornness, Hatano grins and places a hand on her shoulder. “Emma, do you know what coffee does to little kids?”

Slowly, Hatano goes down on one knee so his eyes fall to the same level as Emma’s. He looks deep into her curious eyes, blue as the summer skies, and suddenly frowns, giving her the most serious adult look he can muster.

“You see, Emma, that’s because…” Hatano gulps. “When kids drink coffee, they shake a lot like this!”

Hatano suddenly begins vibrating, moaning and swinging his arms in a silly seizure.

“And then it turns them to little crazy monsters! Like this!”

Hatano continues shaking as he picks up Emma with both arms, spinning her wildly around the room, sending Emma screaming and laughing in turns.

“See how crazy you’d get, Emma?!” Hatano laughs.

Their makeshift merry-go-round draws a few doting chuckles around the room. But when he finally puts her down, the dizziness has done little to change Emma’s mind.

“But why? Adults don’t go crazy if they drink coffee! Why?”

Hatano hesitates. “That’s cause…adults are bigger.”

“But you’re such a tiny kid, Hatano. Why aren’t _you_ going crazy?” Kaminaga teases.

“Oi! Say that ag—“

“That’s because he’s already permanently screwed—with or without coffee.” Miyoshi sighs.

“Oho, asking for trouble, ain’t cha, Miyoshi?” Hatano rolls up his sleeves, smiling. “Keep going Miyoshi, I’ll give you a kick better than any old cuppa coffee!”

Jitsui places a hand on Hatano’s shoulder. “Please, no violence in front of toddlers, Hatano.”

The little man groans, folding his arms and putting on the same sour expression as the little girl. Ignoring the grown-up but taking pity on the girl, Tazaki smiles at her.

“You can have coffee when you’re older, Emma.” He says.

“But Emma’s five!”

“Well, you have to wait till you’re much older than five!”

“Here, have some more crackers. This one has sugar icing.” Fukumoto announces, holding up another large pack to the boys’ loud approval.

“Oh, that looks good!”

“Emma will be six soon!”

“Gimme, gimme!”

“Seriously Fukumoto, how many of those crackers do you have!?”

As the group crowds around the sugar crackers, Kaminaga finds his accomplice and elbows him on the arm.

“That’s messed up, Miyoshi—nice.” He whispers, winking.

“Oh, I just wanted to see how Sakuma would handle this situation.” Miyoshi responds coolly, though he can’t help but share Kaminaga’s grin. “I thought it’d be interesting.”

Kaminaga laughs and pulls his friend towards the snacks.

“Dude, I don’t blame you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 Fifteen minutes later, Sakuma stumbles in with nine cups of coffee—eight for the monsters and one for himself. He has to catch his breath. The run to the coffee shop and back, plus the trip up the stairs with a six-cup holder in each hand, balancing coffee of various cup sizes and heavy-cream content, it was no easy task for his caffeine-starved stamina. Luckily, he gets an enthusiastic welcome upon his entrance.

“Sakuma! Thanks for buying us coffee!”

Sakuma blinks. “What…did you say?”

“You said you’re paying, right? Thanks man!”

“I didn’t! What’s going on!?”

Unluckily for him, the chorus of thank you’s that follow his confusion cannot replace the cash he just lost to coffee.

“Come on, just give us the coffee already!”

Frazzled and framed, now Sakuma has to call up each person’s order and hand them their coffee, failing marvelously at pronouncing all the fancy coffee names—latte, frappucino, macchiato, mocacchino—when all he gets for himself is a poor cup of watered-down espresso.

“Oh? What’s this?” Gamou asks as he and Amari return from their smoke break.

Walking in, all they can see is half a room of boys full of joy, cups of coffee in hand, plus one captain with a constipated look.

“They tricked me to buy all this coffee for them.” Sakuma reveals, eyes wide.

“They did!?” Gamou gasps. “Wow—I’m so sorry for you, man.”

Amari observes the happy faces in the room, a contrast to the tight line on Sakuma’s mouth, evidence of his contained anger.

“Hey, for someone who just got duped you’re taking it pretty graciously.” Amari notes.

 “I’m fine with taking one for the team.”

“Oh? Good sportsmanship there, Sakuma!”

“I’m not upset about buying coffee for the team.” Sakuma admits, looking down. “I just wish they’d been honest about it instead of tricking me to it.”

Amari laughs. “You know these guys, they are not trying to be mean to you. But they do like to have a little fun.”

Gamou suddenly coughs. “A little fun, yes, of course,” he grins.

Sakuma sighs as he looks at the smiling faces around him. “I know. It’s fun for them. But I just feel like I lost a game that’s set up against me from the start.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t take it too seriously!”

“Right, it’s just a silly prank! Everybody gets pranked sometimes, I’m sure.”

“It’s a joke, Sakuma, not a life or death situation.” Amari adds, playfully patting his friend’s shoulder.

Sakuma takes a deep breath and stares at the remaining cups of coffee. He has to find a space of mind to think clearly. He can’t let himself be swayed by something so slight, knowing he is much bigger than whatever can happen, as he’s learned from his own circumstances. This too is a learning experience, he tells himself.

Finally, he meets Amari and Gamou’s gaze with his own clear eyes.

“You’re right.” Sakuma says, smiling. “And actually, I bought some coffee for you guys too.”

But before he can pass the last two cups to Amari and Gamou, Sakuma notices that there is no more coffee left in the cup holder. He stops.

“Hold up…” Sakuma recalls. “There were six orders plus mine so I ordered two more plain medium coffee just in case…which makes nine cups of coffee in total…but there are ten of us so…”

“Oh shit! Somebody’s not getting coffee!”

The boys gasp and look at each other, fearing for their own cup of coffee.

“Oh no! What a coff-fiasco!” Tazaki claims.

“Geez, cut it out with the puns, Tazaki!” Hatano barks.

“Sure. But did you just say _cup_?”

“Hell no!”

“Tazaki’s clearly milking this situation.” Fukumoto notes.

“And stirring up a reaction.” Kaminaga grins.

“Oh, I’m just spicing things up!”

“Wow, you guys are so funny that I’m _coff-ing_.” Miyoshi dryly adds.

“Coff it—argh! Cut the shitty puns you little-“

“No swearing in front of children!”

“Listen! Can we please be serious for a minute!?” Odagiri suddenly speaks up, shutting the room down instantly. He turns towards Sakuma. “Sakuma, you can have my coffee. I didn’t really ask for one anyway.”

“Or mine—I should probably cut back on caffeine.” Amari says, nudging his cup at Sakuma.

“Or, maybe the people behind this whole scheme can come up and take responsibility…” Jitsui suggests, sharply eyeing the whistling Kaminaga and the frowning Miyoshi.

Sakuma shakes his head.

“No, I can’t do that. This is my fault.” Sakuma declares firmly. “Besides, running around, taking orders and getting tricked and everything—that woke me up better than anything could.”

“There’s our captain!”

“O’ Captain, our Captain!”

The room breaks into laughter again.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Sakuma warns, though he can’t hide his grin as Amari and Gamou both pat his shoulder like two proud brothers before receiving their free drink.

“Are you going to be fine without coffee, Sakuma?” Odagiri asks.

Sakuma smiles. “Of course, and in any case, break’s almost over and we need to start practice now.”

“Awww! But we just got coffee! Let’s take another five!” Somebody complains.

“No. We already spent thirty minutes for break, no excuses!” Sakuma orders. “Go get set up!”

Some grumble and some complain, but they put away their coffee cups and pick up their instruments again, energized by the combination of caffeine and humorous happenings of the day. However, there is one blue cup left on the cup-holder, which means Sakuma still has one job to do. The rehearsal captain finds Amari, who nods and smiles at his suggestion.

“Emma! Come here!” Amari calls out.

Emma, who’s been hiding in the corner with her crayons, looks at her Papa and reluctantly makes her way to him with a lopsided smile, gray clouds drawn all over her face. When she stops in front of Amari and Sakuma, the latter bends down and offers her a small blue cup.

“Here’s some cocoa for you, Emma.”

“Coffee!?”

“Emma, he said cocoa, not coffee.”

“But _coffee_.”

Sakuma looks apologetic. “I’m sorry it’s not coffee but I promise you it’s good!”

“Oh.” Emma simply says as she wraps little hands around the warm cup.

“Careful Emma—it’s still hot! Can you hold it? Put it on the table and wait for it to cool first, okay?”

“Okay, Papa.” Emma nods, holding the cup tightly.

Amari smiles. “What do you say, Emma?”

“Thank you, Uncle.” Emma looks up and beams at Sakuma, with a smile as sweet as early spring.

Sakuma’s weary face finally lights up for the first time in the day as he smiles to his fullest. “You’re welcome, Emma.” He whispers back.

And the room instantly shouts back with more teasing.

“Thanks, Uncle!” “Thank you, old Uncle!” “Thanks, old man!”

“Shut up!”

Laughter rocks the room again. Everybody is wide awake, alert, and full of good coffee and smiles. They steal a few sips, start playing their instruments, and wait for Amari to go over his own notes before starting practice.

Miyoshi, now relaxed that he’s had his fix, is snickering and exchanging looks with Jitsui as they catch Gamou furiously texting someone on his phone. Odagiri is practicing the part of the music where he keeps stumbling, frowning in full concentration rather than frustration. Sakuma is standing a bit off to the side, squeezing in some stretches and jumping jacks to stay active. Tazaki tells Fukumoto a joke, but the stoic man only burps at the punchline, causing Tazaki to play some dejected melody off his flute. Meanwhile, little Emma is happily swinging her legs on a chair in the corner, rejuvenated by the sweet chocolate drink.

Finally, Amari clears his throat, takes his position at the center, and smiles at everybody.

“Ready for Take Five?”

They nod and smile back.

“Okay, in 1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4!”

 

 

* * *

 

Later, when the sun is but an orange glow in the sky, long after rehearsal has ended and everybody has left, and he has talked to Amari about today’s rehearsals and sent his worksheets to Yuuki, Sakuma is finally ready to head home.

“Hm?”

When he bends down to pack his cello, he notices some cash and a scribbly note clumsily taped on the inside of his cello case.

The note says:

 

_For coffee_

 

He takes the cash off and unfolds it.

“I can’t believe it, those guys…”

Sakuma shakes his head.

“This isn’t even a third of what I paid.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Captain, Poor Captain. 
> 
> By the way, if at any point you get confused about which character is talking, that’s fine. I’m not always even sure who’s talking ;)
> 
> Y’all, I wrote chunks of this story in the weirdest of places: on a fountain, in the middle of the boonies, in taxi rides while getting motion sickness, in three different hotel rooms, on a date, in the office, in a roller coaster – okay just kidding (mostly). What I’m saying is you should rejoice upon this new chapter and shower me with kudos and comments. Just kidding, again. I love you for reading <3
> 
> New chapter won’t be coming for a while but I always keep the jazz going on [Tumblay](https://terassaras.tumblr.com), aaaaaaayyy!

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Modern Musician AU [drawing](http://terassaras.tumblr.com/post/154976619343/so-i-was-kinda-bummed-that-i-couldnt-participate) I did for Kai [@rotKaiserin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rotKaiserin/pseuds/rotKaiserin), which led to more [drawing](http://rotkaiserin.tumblr.com/post/156569336737/been-feeling-down-recently-so-i-decided-to-do-some), and then some [headcanons](http://terassaras.tumblr.com/post/156754712636/d-ensemble), and then some [more](http://terassaras.tumblr.com/post/156799022084/d-ensemble), and then this. Will update with new chapters...at some unspecified point in time.  
> Disclaimer: I have approximately zero hours of musical training so I don't know why I'm even writing a Modern Musician AU. But even so I hope you enjoyed the story! Critics, comments, and suggestions are welcome here or on [Tumblah](http://terassaras.tumblr.com/).


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